Dissimulation
by Angst Avenue
Summary: Dissimulation is the act of hiding ones feelings. [kylexoc]


The first day of school was a horrid experience or any ordinary child, except for Evelyn Strums, for her first day was worse than everyone else's. A mere thirty nine hours prior, she had been sitting upon a private airline staring blankly out the window as her family came ever closer to the little mountain town. Now, standing before the pathetically small fifth grade class in usual attire for such a climate, she decided it was a terrible idea for her to have even considered her mother's offer at taking a break from city life. Oh, how she missed New York with every bit of her well being as the hicks' eyes bore into her soul, searching forevermore for things to laugh at her.

**"This is Evelyn, your new classmate. She flew down her with her rich-ass parents from New York just to be with us this year. Yippee,"** the teacher sneered in a tone laced with boredom as she gestured to the anxious child trembling in front of them. Joy of joys that the nine-year old should be forced to learn from a person that looked as if she had been a male at some point in time. After a few more moments passed in silence, Evelyn hurried to the single, non-occupied desk in the room with the gracefulness of a ballet dancer. As soon as she slid into it, the boy next to her turned his head and grinned, though it was a completely harmless gesture and most likely friendly, she averted her gaze.

**"I'm Kyle,"** the boy stated matter-of-factly, blinking a pair of dark emerald eyes in her direction. His smile somehow managed to widen when she didn't respond, and instead, she dreamily pulled out a textbook and flipped through the pages. It seemed her pale jade eyes flickered up to his face before regaining their uninterested demeanor. At this exact moment she was gathering her opinions on him.

This Kyle guy was cute, like a puppy, with round eyes, freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, and incredibly curly, rust-colored hair sticking out from under his green ushanka. Sighing, more to herself than anyone else, Evelyn tipped her head up, pixie-cut golden brown hair swirling around her thin face. In fact, she resembled a pixie in every way with her slight frame, short hair, and almond-shaped eyes, but she hated the fact that she seemed so dainty. Even the way she walked was like a waltz.

**"****Wanna'**** hang out with me at lunch?"** Now he was the one to shift away, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as his hands fidgeted atop his desk. Then, thinking better of the statement, he opened his mouth to take it back, only to be intercepted by a soft, whispery voice.

**"Was she a boy before?"** Her eyes darted to the teacher drawling about something useless and back to him, a puzzled expression clouding her features.

**"Oh, Mrs. Garrison? Yeah. And she was gay too,"** he laughed quietly, blinking at her again through his eyelashes as he attempted to half hide his stare. Evelyn giggled, a bit too loud, and instantly turned a light shade of red. For the second time that day the class watched her intently, curious about why she had suddenly laughed during such a boring lecture. The teacher, Mrs. Garrison as it was, frowned and singled her out.

**"****Do you have somethin'**** to say, Evelyn?"** If she had been blushing before, she was crimson now; her focus trained upon her creamy fur boots, nearly burning holes in the hide of whatever animal was used to make them. When she ignored the accusation, the woman raised an eyebrow and made an impatient sound, as if the girl was wasting _her_ time.

**"N-no, Sir, I mean Madam. I d-don't,"** she managed to squeak, sliding uncomfortably from one side of the seat to the other, her fingers twitching madly. Evelyn was the kind of girl who was obnoxiously perverted, cracking jokes at everyone and everything, constantly loud and never polite. And yet, here she was, shy as ever in front of a class of lower-class fifth graders. Swallowing softly, she looked up, quickly regretting it.

**"Well, I see we have a shy one. Those rich pricks of yours teach you manners or some****thin'****?"** The question, of course, was rhetorical, but the girl made a gentle chirping noise anyways, barely biting her tongue from defending her parents. Well, Charlie anyways. She despised Kimberly and wished the bird-like woman would just rot in a black hole. Eventually the attention faded and the class returned to their reveries as the teacher droned on again.

Without so much as a glance at the redhead, she whispered, **"Okay, why not?"** then leaned over the desk far enough for her nose to brush the pages of her textbook. While she seemed like she was reading, she was scowling at the same sentence for the rest of the hour, until lunch, trying to stay calm. Anxiety had become anger at the teacher, at South Park, at her parents. Hunching her shoulders, shrugging her hands back into the long sleeves of the tight, black jacket, she sorted through her mind which was in complete turmoil.

At least she had been allowed to wear her favorite ebony sweatshirt with the Batman symbol embroidered on the chest, a pair of skin-fitting denim jeans, and comfortable, creamy fur boots. Kimberly had insisted on some luxurious movie star coat, a plastic-like miniskirt, and go-go boots. Luckily enough Charlie had intercepted or both females would have been spitting venom at each other. Just as Evelyn was considering how fun it would be to rip her mother to shreds, the bell screeched, startling her, and she toppled sideways out of her desk. Kyle, eyes full of concern, bent over and helped her up without a word, gathering her textbook for her as they shuffled into the hall.

**"Ay, Kahl!"** an annoying voice barked behind them, startling the girl once more. Her book crashed to the tiled floor in a flurry of pages and she knelt on one knee to scoop it up, frowning as she scampered to Kyle's side seeing as he had taken a few steps away. A burly, brunette boy sauntered up, his red turtle-neck jacket bulging where his obesity conquered. Just behind him two other males trotted forward, one lean and catlike, dirty blonde hair spilling from beneath the raised hood of his orange parka. The more muscular one had a thin cap clamped over straight, black hair, his navy eyes searching his best friend's emerald ones.

**"Who's this?"** the raven-haired one inquired, inspecting Evelyn closer than she thought tolerable.

**"Evie,"** she said with a snobbish air, though traces of her nervousness were easily heard. Tilting her head back so that her nose was in the air, just like the stereotypical rich person's, she peered at him through the edges of her eyes.

**"She'****s gonna'**** hang with us, Stan."** Kyle piped up brightly, though his fingers were fidgeting in the pockets of his orange hunting coat. Stanley gave her a curt nod and they trudged off, leaving the girl to trail after with the blonde prowling quietly by her side.


End file.
